Dropped in Thedas ON HIATUS
by AndAgain
Summary: Alright, I usually hate these, but: I get dropped in Thedas. Madness ensues! T for language.
1. In With A Bang

**A/N: Alright, I usually hate these, but I'm going to give it a try!**

**Disclaimer: Le Bioware owns le Dragon Age**

**Ch. 1: In with a Bang**

* * *

"Sweet, merciful heaven, what a headache."

****"Well, that's not exactly surprising, considering the explosion you caused."**  
**

"...what?"**  
**

And then I look around. Nothing makes sense. I'm sitting, propped up, against the base of a tall tree. My feet are bare, and the grass is a soft brown color. The sky is clear and blue, and I am in a forest. The morning air is chill. **  
**

"Is it winter?"**  
**

"It's fall."**  
**

"Right."**  
**

"Who, exactly, are you?"**  
**

"Shut up a minute and let me think." I'm trying to process just exactly what happened. Trying really hard not to look at the man over there. In stead, I look at me. I'm still in my red and gold yukata - a sort of Japanese houserobe - and it's cinched at the waist, just like it was last night. I move my limbs about. Intact. **  
**

"Are you d-"**  
**

"Shut _up_, Duncan!" I turn and glare at him. Trying really hard not to think about who he is. **  
**

I fail rather miserably at this.**  
**

He's Duncan, a grey warden. A Warden! Brown skin, short pony tail, thick eyebrows. Swirly designs on his armor. Short sword. I'm an American.

This can't be happening.**  
**

"How do you know my name?"**  
**

"...It's a long story." I shut my eyes, rest my head on the tree. Wish desperately for my glasses.**  
**

"Are you lost?"**  
**

Self preservation kicks in suddenly, fueled by a rush of adrenaline. I AM lost. This is really, really bad. And I have to go with Duncan, or else I'll die. It's a blight. The blight. Time for those acting classes to pay off.**  
**

"No, not exactly. I wanted to join you on your search for new wardens... I heard about it from a friend. I don't know how much use I'll be, but I want to try." I wince slightly, partially from the headache, partially from the truth of that statement. I can shoot a bow with okay accuracy. I can sprint. But I have no endurance, no skill with swords. Am a royal klutz.

He sits there, looking thoughtful, probably. I can't really tell. There are just two shadows where his eyes should be, and his mouth is a discolored slash. Faces are hard when you're nearsighted.

"Did you see a pair of, er, ah.. uhm.. they're black? It's black? With two glass circles?"**  
**He looks up suddenly then, his smashy flesh-colored circle changing shapes a bit. Maybe he's smiling. "They were, ah, burnt in the fire."**  
**

"What fire?"**  
**

"When you... appeared... by my camp, you caused an explosion. My fire scattered to the four winds- it was quite a chore putting all of it out. Your glass-thing was burnt. What in Thedas was that made of, by the way?" **  
**

"Plastic."**  
**

"Excuse me?"**  
**

"Another long story. So, about me tagging along...?"**  
**

He brings his hand up to his face, and I'm pretty sure he's pinching the bridge of his nose. He reminds me so much of my father. I have to chide myself. He wouldn't want me dead as well as mysteriously missing. Thoughts about my family will only get in the way. I hold the image of Dad and Mom and my two younger brothers in my head for a second, squeeze the tears back. Take a deep breath.**  
**

"Sir -er- Serrah?"**  
**

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was just thinking. You may ride with me. But first, we must find you some proper clothes. What is that you're wearing? Is it Orlesian?"

"A yukata. It's Orlesian, yes."**  
**

"What?"**  
**

"A dressing gown."**  
**

"You left your home in a dressing gown?"**  
**

"Not intentionally, I assure you." I give him a look that I hope translates to 'Drop It.' Again, it's hard to tell what face to make when I can't read other peoples' features. **  
**

"Right. Have you ridden a horse before...?" **  
**

"...once."**  
**

"I see. Do you remember how?" I can hear the strain in his voice. He probably thinks I'm a runaway. Going to drop me at the nearest chantry, most likely.**  
**

I can't let that happen. Not for a million dol- sovereigns. Right. Ferelden.**  
**

Fuck.**  
**

"Miss...?"**  
**

"Fenne. Fenne... where are we?" Fenne was my first Hawke. Oh, God, Hawke. I wonder if she's okay. If I'll see her in Lothering. Wait-what about the other warden origins? What does my being here mean?

"We're near the circle tower, at-"**  
**

"Lake Calenhad, yes, I remember now. Sorry, must have gotten bumped on the head when I ... appeared. Fenne Surana. And yes, I remember how to ride a horse. I'm sorry to be imposing on you like this. The truth of it is, since my parents died last spring, our farm got repossessed by the Teyrn. I had to move in with my aunt, but she has many mouths to feed already."**  
**

"Ah, I think I begin to see the problem."**  
**

"I thought you might. The short version is that I left as soon as I heard of an opportunity. I haven't ever been far from home, but I can learn fast."**  
**

He raises his eyebrows - so prominent even I can see them - and I think it's worked. He's buying the Determined Young Woman thing. I hope.**  
**

"I understand if you won't take me." A little self depreciation tends to go a long way. This is no exception.**  
**

"I already said you could join me, didn't I?" He sounds amused. "I am Duncan, of the Grey Wardens, though you already know that, I suppose. Well met, Fenne Surana."**  
**

"Well met, Duncan." I stand, but I don't curtsey. If he thinks the yukata is strange, he'll think boxers and a tank top are heretical. Burn meas a witch, most likely. A witch.

Dear lord, Morrigan.**  
**

And then I look at him, and I remember that he's a dead man walking. And I decide to use that to make myself seem powerful- to protect myself. **  
**

"The king will fall at Ostagar."**  
**

"Excuse me?"**  
**

"The king. At Ostagar."**  
**

"How do you know about Ostagar?"**  
**

"I'm... not sure. There's some mage blood in my family. We... know things, on occasion. It can be useful." **  
**

"Let's hope you're wrong."**  
**

"Let's hope."I ride on the pack horse, a sturdy ferelden pony. Duncan talks about the land, about the wardens, about Cailan. I listen as closely as I can, trying to arm myself with knowledge. That is my forté. I love to learn.**  
**

Eventually, we reach the lake. The Spoiled Princess sits there, and the tower of magi looms over everything, blotting out the sinking sun. Duncan pays the man at the dock, and as we slide silently across the water, I see a ragged man pawing at what look like giant bodies.

Sten. Sten's sword! **  
**

"Qunari! Those bodies are qunari!" I yelp before I can stop myself. Duncan looks, startled.**  
**

"Maker, they are Qunari. How very strange. Maybe... you oughtn't watch, Miss Surana."**  
**

I turn and stare for a second. He's close enough for me to see pretty well, in the tiny boat, and I can tell he is gauging my reaction. This is a test. I have to pass.**  
**

"No, I will watch. I must get used to this. I'm gonna- I will see many more bodies than those." I go back to observing the man and the Qunari, though they are getting smaller and smaller. I can feel Duncan's eyes on the back of my head for a moment, but I don't respond.

Let him make his judgements. What I said was the truth. **  
**

I will see many more bodies.

In a half an hour, we are at the rock. The ferryman jumps out of the boat and helps me up. I try not to look surprised. Such courtesy is not what I am used to. The male with an ounce of consideration for such things as 'ladies first' is an endangered animal where I come from. **  
**

"Thank you, Ser."

The man smiles at me good-naturedly, and I remember that he is a templar. I'm not sure if I approve of and I go inside the giant black obelisk, through a pair of massive oak doors that look as foreboding as the doors to a cell. The interior is surprisingly warm, surprisingly bustling with people, mage and Templar alike.

I stand by Duncan, who is much taller than I am. It's drafty in the tower, and the yukata doesn't provide much protection. People are staring. He waves one of them over.**  
**

**"**Ah, Duncan! We were expecting you earlier, I trust there was no trouble...?" this is a mage, by the robes. I look at his crinkly skin, his small eyes, big gray eyebrows and big gray beard. Long hair.

Irving.

****Duncan steps forward and claps him on the shoulder like an old comrade, and I wonder how they know each other. What adventures have they had? What journeys have they been on? How did they get where they are today?**  
**

**"**Nothing terrible, old friend. This is Fenne Surana. She's accompanying me on my search. Could you have someone look after her? She's a little... new... to all this." He smiles as though this is some kind of in-joke, and Irving looks me over appraisingly. Nods once. Beckons to a tall mage whose features I can't make out at all. I can't even tell what gender it is, the hair is too long. Probably a male, by the size of the shoulders. **  
**

**"**Anders, please show our guest here around. Get her some clothes, and a room. Be... civil." This last statement seems edged with some kind of warning, or a threat, and I can't help but grin. Oh, Anders. This is getting weirder and weirder, and it's not stopping any time soon. The blond mage nods to Irving, then reaches out a hand in my direction.**  
**

**"**Anders, at your service."**  
**

**"**Fenne."

I shake the hand. He's grinning at me. This is unnerving. I need to take control of the situation.

"Shall we?" I extend an arm, and he smiles wider, taking it. We walk away from the old men, and through the doors of the entrance hall into the corridors of the main tower. I keep my back straight, my chin held high. I know I look ridiculous, but I figure now is not the time to be vulnerable. **  
**

**"**What do you know of the circle, Fenne?" Anders startles me, and I jump a bit. Damn. I need to answer. What _do _I know about the circle? Probably more than I should. Wait, did I just start talking? Oh, shit. Here we go.**  
**

**"**I know Irving is the first enchanter, I know a bit about the politics between the Templars and the mages." Okay, no harm done. That's probably all common knowledge.**  
**

**"**Ah, I see. I suppose not much information about us gets out, considering how rare it is that _we _do." He sounds irritated, disappointed. Ah, damn it, Anders!**  
**

**"**Well... I have heard... that you escape sometimes..." I keep my voice low, conspiratorial. I want him on my side if I end up here through Awakenings. If I live that long. He misses a beat in his step, and his muscles tense up a bit. **  
**

**"**Where did you hear that?"**  
**

**"**Oh, well, there were some Templars that came through our village once when I was little. Said they were chasing an escaped mage. They questioned everybody, asked if we'd seen someone who... fit your description."**  
**

**"**Ah, I see." he seems rather pleased with himself, and as he tugs gently on my arm to indicate the fact that we're turning down another corridor, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret. I wish he'd gotten away.**  
**I try to draw parallels between this world and my own. Templars come to your door... like Mormons! Mormons. Just really mean, violent Mormons.

"Mormons!"**  
**

**"**Excuse me?" Anders' flesh-oval turns to face me at me, his tone bewildered.**  
**

**"**Er - nothing." I sigh. I'm so damn blind.**  
**

He stops in the hallway. In the middle of everything. It's true that the couple of people that we've walked past have given us a wide berth, but this is sure to draw attention.**  
**

**"**It's not 'nothing'," he says, sternly. I know he's not much older than me, but his serious tone and the crinkling of his face-shape are intimidating. That and the fact that he's a _mage_. "What is troubling you? And you're obviously not very good at lying, so don't try."**  
**

Suddenly, it hits me. Anders is a healer. Maybe he can _fix _my eyes!**  
**

**"**I'm nearsighted!" I smile awkwardly, hoping he understands. Is that a word that works here, too? "You know, I can't see things that are far away. Far away meaning... farther than this."**  
**

I hold out my arm, hand vertical.**  
**

**"**Why didn't you ever have this taken care of?" he asks, sounding curious, bending down to look at my eyes. He's close enough now that he comes into focus.**  
**

It's the same old Anders. _My _Anders. Except impossibly, incredibly rendered in meticulous detail so that he looks... real. Looks human. His aquiline nose, his twinkling blue eyes. The hair escaping from his ponytail. He frowns, and I am snapped back to reality.**  
**

Well, what passes for reality.**  
**

**"**Because we didn't have the money." I stutter, hoping it's plausible. His expression clears.**  
**

**"**Well, that's no issue here." he says, straightening and taking my arm again. "We'll get that fixed up in a moment. Ah! here we are." Hepulls open a door in the hallway, and behind it is a little room. The furniture is rough and wooden, and the one window is extremely narrow.

**"**So, here is our visitor!" a voice sounds from a room adjoining this one, and I strain to see the woman who follows it.**  
**

**"**A little smaller than I expected, but these should still fit. Anders, Dear, why don't you go find her something to eat?"

By the Maker, it's Wynne.


	2. Out With A Crash

**A/N: Sorry this took forever, and sorry it's short! It's been hectic in RL. ****However, this should be fun :D And we get to clear up a couple of plotholes. Also, I've made an attempt to streamline the writing somewhat, and to break up the paragraphs. Let me know if it works!**

**Disclaimer: Adjectives are mine. Nouns are Bioware's.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Out With A Crash**

I'm lying on the bed - which is, by the way, even less comfortable than the hole-y decade-old thing that I sleep on at home - and staring at the ceiling.

It's well into the night, and I'm completely exhausted, but I can't sleep at all. There's nothing to do but lie here, and reflect.

When Wynne entered the room, it had taken a massive exertion of self control to keep myself from hugging her. She quickly shooed Anders out the door (he took a second to lay a hand on my shoulder; the contact sent an unnerved shudder down my spine), and took a long, hard look at me. I began to shift uneasily. She was _definitely _going to think my underclothes were weird.

**"**What was your name, Dear?" she asked, her motherly tone clashing with the calculating expression in her eyes.**  
**

I shook myself mentally, trying to fall back into character.

"Fenne Surana," I answered, then was struck by a moment of brilliance: "I actually have a cousin who's a mage, I think. Are there any Suranas here, to your knowledge?" Wynned raised an eyebrow, but appeared to think about it for a moment. My chest felt like it was constricting.

_If one of the wardens is here, who am I to steal his or her destiny?_**  
**

**"**Yes, actually, there is a Surana. His name is Alim, but he is an elf, and you are human." there seemed to be an edge to her voice. She payed a lot of attention to what I said next.**  
**

**"**Alim! Cousin Alim! He's - ah - sort of adopted, if I remember correctly. Or, well, was. Before he showed his talent."**  
**

**"**I see." Wynne said, and began to pull some dark, mud-brown fabric from a satchel at her feet that I had yet to notice. While she arranged this and several other pieces of clothing on the bed, I took time to ply her with questions. Largely so she didn't have a chance to ask me any.**  
**After all, the elf mage warden is alive and well, so what about the others?**  
**

**"**When I got here, I told First Enchanter Irving my name, but he didn't mention Alim. Why is that?"**  
**

**"**Alim is..." Wynne paused for a moment in her folding, her tone uncertain, then continued on in a more assured voice. "in a bit of trouble currently. Perhaps Irving failed to mention him because he didn't want to explain the situation, or, possibly more likely, he saw that you are human and didn't think Alim would pertain to you."**  
**Now I was really curious, but I left that question till later; I had others.**  
**

**"**What about Amell? I - er - had a neighbor when I was younger who was taken to the circle, I think."**  
**

**"**Amell? Funny you should ask about Amell, after Surana." Wynne noted, having now unpacked all the clothes.**  
**

**"**Why?" I asked, and she began laying the clothes on top of one another, in the order in which they should be put on. In fact, I noticed that some of it looked sort of fancy. Before I could get a look at them, though, Wynne grabbed my attention back as she began to explain.**  
**

**"**Well, the situation that has Alim in trouble is, in a way, Solona Amell's fault. Alim is a bit more emotional than Solona, and when they were both faced with the same choice... Alim let his heart rule his decision, and Solona used her head." the enchantress shook her head, seemingly resigned to something very sad."Alim is planning something very, very stupid tonight, and we're going to have to apprehend him and a couple of his friends."**  
**Oh, no.**  
**Oh, no, no, no!**  
**_Jowan._**  
**

**"**That son of a bitch!"**  
**

**"**Excuse me?" Wynne looked at me, affronted. I scrambled to apologise, trying to pull myself together. I _hate _Jowan. Usually, I have a soft spot for mages, but blood magic _never _ends well! What an idiot. And, oh, this poor Alim guy is getting so drug in. I have no idea how to even begin to form an opinion of Solona, though. Jesus, what a mess.**  
**Er.**  
**Andraste.**  
**

**"**Oh! I'm sorry! It's just - a burr. On my foot." I hopped around a bit, theatrically pulling something out of one of my toes and flicking it into a corner. For effect, y'know.**  
**

**"**Well, that should be fine. I have your clothes all laid out now. Will you need assistance dressing?"

I'm pretty sure I turned beet red at the thought, though whether it was out of embarrassment or being indignant was difficult to tell.**  
**

**"**I'll be fine, I'm sure." Also, I really didn't think the tanktop and boxers would go over well.**  
**

**"**Suit yourself." she said, with a smile. Wynne walked past me, and out the door, closing it quietly.

Finally alone

The sun could be seen setting through the tiny sliver of window, and I decided to paw through the clothes and try to find something to sleep in. Other than this.**  
**

I shed my yukata, folded it nicely, and stuffed it into the pack Wynne left on the wooden floor beside the bed. The clothing lying neatly on the bed was intriguing, and I picked it up, rubbing my fingers along the seams and admiring the careful, hand-stitching. Almost as seamless as a machine.**  
**

Almost.**  
**

On the top of the stack was a pair of soft, dark green hose. The material felt sort of like cotton, but it was difficult to tell. It wasn't quite as delicate as cotton, but not as rough as wool, either.**  
**

Under that was a knee-length tunic with elbow-length sleeves that looked like it'd fit pretty tightly. It was mud-brown and had a short slit down the front that would probably come down only an inch or two beneath my collarbone, and along the neckline and the slit there were tiny, dark brown swirls embroidered. Underneath _that _was a leather belt with a small, unassuming buckle and a loop that could presumably be used to hang a scabbard.**  
**All fairly standard fare.**  
**What was underneath the belt, however, was nothing of the kind. It had been hidden by the tunic, only a couple edges of fabric peaking out behind the drabness**  
**

It was beautiful. If I put it on, it would have fallen past my feet, most likely. It was some kind of overcoat, with long, bell-like sleeves slit at the top to allow freedom of movement. The back was slit as well; clearly this was a garment meant more for adornment than practical use.**  
**It was dark red with golden embroidery along the edges, and along the cuffs of the enormous sleeves. The stitching was of dragons breathing fire, of birds in flight, of deer running with swift grace through the trees.**  
**

The detail took my breath away. **  
**

I gently folded up the clothes, and laid them on the small, rough wooden table that sat beside the bed. I dug around in the satchel thing again, and finally found something that looked like a long, gray shirt in a side pocket.**  
**I changed, throwing my clothes into the bag, and buried myself in the blankets of the bed.

And that's about it, up till now. blankets are wool, I think, and a bit scratchy, but warm. This stupid tower is really drafty at night. I've been lying here for hours, slipping in and out of consciousness, but a few minutes ago I heard the stomping of running, armored feet go past my door. **  
**

Now, I'm feeling really torn. **  
**

I _know _that Jowan is a blood mage, but Alim doesn't. If I leave the situation alone, will it unfurl like it does in the game? Will Alim say the right things? What about my being here - does it change anything? In the end, I decide that there's just no other way to find out what's going on, and drag myself out of bed. I get dressed quickly, putting on the hose - fits, but they're tight - and the tunic. I belt it at the waist, and then throw the coat-thing over all of it. There's no mirror, and no brush, so I jerk my fingers through my shoulder-length, light brown hair and try to pat it into some semblance of order. Ahg, it's oily.**  
**

I _really _need a bath.**  
**

I open the door, step into the hallway, and then my vision is obscured by something dark.**  
**I'm shoved against the wall, cold stone pressing painfully into my back, and I realize there's a hand pressed against my face, over my eyes. The glove is rough and dark, and it scratches my face.**  
**

Someone's breath, rank and sickly-sweet, washes over my face.**  
**

**"**Well, then. Looks like one 'ah the magies is out 'ah bed. That's not aloud, is it, Rillans?"**  
**

I can practically here the sneer in the voice that replies.**  
**

**"**Tha's right, Ferran. An' what do we do with th' ones tha' break th' curfew?"**  
**

**"**Why, we lock 'em up, don' we."**  
**

**"**Tha's right."**  
**

The man pulls his hand away, and I can see a little better in the dimly lit corridor, but the glove flies from my face to my throat, choking me.**  
**

I've never been so petrified in my life. I'm too scared to even make a sound. I can't even bring myself to scream, and the air I'd need to do it is quickly leaving me. These men - what are they, Templars? probably - are twice as tall as I am, huge and hulking in their armor. One, with a big nose and long black hair in a ponytail, stands behind the one choking me. Rillans, I assume.**  
**The other, the one with his hand at my throat, has short blond hair. I'm gasping for breath now.

I don't know why I'm paying so much attention to what they look like. I'm going to die here, as they leer and grin and laugh.

I'm going to die.**  
**

I'm going to die in this damp, brown world and I'm not even going to get to meet Alistair before I do it.

The laughter of the two templars is fading now. **  
**

My vision is blurring.

From a long way away, there is a sound like breaking glass.


	3. Healing is Awesome

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while! The muse is being a bit of a twit.**

_**Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all...(the nouns, that is)**_

**Chapter Three: Healing is Awesome**

* * *

When I come to, Anders is leaning over me. As his face slides into focus, I start to cough and splutter. He shoves one hand over my mouth, trying to keep me quiet, but that just makes it worse. I have asthma, and I can feel an attack coming on. _  
_

_What the Hell is he even doing here? He isn't - oh. Escaping again.  
_

After a few seconds of scrabbling pathetically at his fingers, I finally relent and relax. He stares at me, his hazel eyes intent._  
_Ten seconds of silence._  
_

_Damn it, Anders! If I don't get to Duncan soon...  
_

Finally, he lets me go._  
_I gasp for breath; the idiot keeps trying to say something, but I can't hear it over the blood pounding in my ears._  
_

Finally, it becomes intelligible. _  
_

_"_Are you alright?" he asks, seeming genuinely concerned. It takes me a moment, but I manage to reply._  
_

_"_I have... asthma..."_  
_

_"_What in Thedas is asthma? Is it some kind of disease?"_  
_

_"_N-no, it's... weak lungs."_  
_

_"_Weak lungs? Didn't Wynne heal you earlier?"_  
_

_"_No. I guess... I forgot to ask. More important... things on my... mind." I'm finally starting to catch my breath, when Anders does something that takes me completely by surprise. He reaches out, helps me up from the cold ground, then places a hand gently over my heart.

Strange blue light begins pouring from Anders' palm and into my chest. There's something oddly comforting about the periwinkle sparks dancing along his fingertips. And my lungs... it's like someone's given me a new pair._  
_

After a moment I start to be able to feel the magic coursing me like some kind of cool, gentle waterfall. It wraps itself around my heart and flows down into my stomach and along my legs and arms. He's healed my lungs, and I reach out with my senses, trying to see what else he's healing. I find that, if I concentrate, I can feel every little piece of skin smooth._  
_

The scars on my knee. My weak ankle. Everything from an ingrown toenail to a bruise on my hip. He moves his hand up, to my throat, and I can feel something change. My deformed soft palate, the scars from having my tonsils removed when I was a kid.

Then, his thumbs pressing into my temples and his fingers covering my eyes, he directs the magic into my face. A scar on my cheek, gone. A cut on my forehead, gone. My earlobes - ack! I'll have to re-pierce them!_  
_And, finally, my eyes. They feel suddenly... light. Like there was an ache, a heaviness, to them that I'd had for so long that I'd forgotten its presence. A few seconds later, he removes his hands, and leans against the wall across from me, breathing heavily._  
_

I stare at myself. I'm still glowing. I must be like... some kind of beacon._  
_

_"_And that," he says in a wry voice, shattering my wondered silence, "is what you call a full healing. Perks of being a mage."_  
_

_"_You look exhausted." I reply. I can't help being concerned. I mean, come on. For one thing, he's _Anders_, and for another, he just spent tons of energy healing every little thing wrong with me. Not to mention the fact that the healing felt strangely... intimate. I guess I'd never though of that before. It's like the magic created a road map of my body, connecting every scar. Or, more like a history book. That he got to _read_._  
_

One that is now wiped clean._  
_

_"_Oh, I don't know." he grins, still leaning on the wall and breathing like a marathon runner. "A little lyrium, and I'll be back on my feet in no time. Plus," here the grin gets rather mischievous, and I can't help but raise an eyebrow "it was worth it. For the look on your face, if for no other reason."_  
_

I smile a little, still glowing some, and we stare at each other stupidly for a few seconds._  
_

Then, I realize that I'm an idiot._  
_

_"_Andraste's ass!" I exclaim, in (perhaps belatedly) hushed tones. I can't help but be proud of myself a bit for the swear, but I shouldn't dwell on that. Anders is in danger.

"That must have been like - like some kind of siren!" he looks at me funny, and I sigh._  
_

This is so exasperating sometimes._  
_

"What, like a mermaid thing that lures sailors to their deaths? I know I'm handsome, but I fail to see the resemblance. I mean, I didn't even sing at all -"

_"No, _like a _horn_! Like a big, loud,_ noticeable_ thing! To the _Templars_!"_  
_

His eyes widen, and then mine do as well._  
_

_Holy shit. His eyes widened and I totally saw them do it! I'm not a blind person! WOO!  
_

_"_You have to get_ out _of here!"_  
_

Suddenly, he's off the wall and hustling along the corridor. He waves to me as he runs, grinning hugely. _  
_

He looks determined._  
_

I hope they don't drag him back too violently.

Then, like an idiot, I notice the bodies of the two Templars that attacked me lying on the floor.

One of them is surrounded by shards of what looks like china, and I realize that Anders must have used some kind of dish to knock him out._  
_

_"_For the love of - ahg." I verbally berate myself, "You forgot your shoes. Dumb-ass."_  
_

I pop back into my room for a moment and rifle through the cabinets until I find a pair of extremely worn, dusty boots and shove them onto my feet. They're at least three sizes too big, but I know that I need to go._  
_

_"_Time's a-wastin'."_  
_

I freeze in the hallway, and listen quietly. I can hear armored feet coming from the left and the right. The torches are guttering slightly, and it makes me nervous._  
_This place is seriously creepy._  
_After a few seconds of indecision, I decide to head for the sounds that are _not _coming from the same direction as Anders' escape route. _  
_I pad down the corridor to my right, keeping in the shadows as much as possible, heading straight for the dangerous things.

_Well,_

I think to myself, _you always wanted an adventure._

~Q~

I've been going for a while when I finally catch up; I've never had much stamina, so I'm glad I when I see the glimmer of armor around a corner, but at least I don't have to worry about my lungs crapping out on me if I don't rest every five seconds.

I flatten myself against a wall, watching the shadows of the templars move. The torches cast a warm light, but without the sun up, everything looks eery. I try to breathe as little as possible, and with my newly healed lungs, it's not quite as difficult as it would usually be. One of the templars starts talking, so I listen in.

**"**Have you heard anything about the reinforcements?"**  
**

**"**What? I thought they were supposed to get here before I started my shift."**  
**

**"**Well, they never did." It's pretty obvious that they're talking about the two idiots that Anders took out. I'm pretty sure that the door they're guarding leads to the dungeons, and that's where I need to go.

I need a diversion.**  
**

_Eh, Anders has a pretty good head start._

I take a deep breath, back up a step, then run pell-mell around the corner, screaming.**  
**

**"**Help! Escaped mage!"**  
**

**"**What? Where?" the two huge, armored men draw their swords and I point in a direction that will probably take them near my room.

Assuming I'm not totally lost at this point, of course. **  
**

**"**Th-there! Two templars have been knocked unconscious!"**  
**

The templars fly past me - much faster than one might expect, what with all that metal - clanking down the hallway to my left. Now I'm alone in front of the door.

I take a deep breath, mentally steeling myself against the horror that I'm sure the dungeons contain, and turn the handle.

_k-thunk._

It doesn't turn.

**"**God _damn _it!" I exclaim, furious. I _have _to get through that door! I pat myself down, sticking my hands in all the bizarre pockets held by my clothes. I locate something on an inside pocket of the robe-thing. I pull it out, squinting in the low torch-light, and I'm surprised by the little object.**  
**

It's a sliver of wood, slightly burnt on one end and a little bit of shiny metallic paint on the other.

What is it? **  
**

A memento of some kind? A piece of a staff?**  
**

Well, today, it's a lockpick.

There's a door in my house that locks automatically when it's shut, so I'm pretty familiar with jimmying a simple lock. I jam the wood into the edge of the door, jiggling it up and down until it clicks.**  
**

_There we go._**  
**

I open the door, slip into the room beyond, and then shut it behind me.

Here we go.

_I'm in._


	4. Blood Magic Sucks

_A/N: Short chapter is short! I needed this to happen, it's PLOT, but the second bit of this ran long and I had to chop it up! Also, a reminder: I can see all the stats and traffic on my stories, so it breaks my little author heart to see so many people check this little fic out and then flitter off into the sunset!_**  
**

_Please, please review! I have it set up so that you can even if you're not logged in. I'm happy with a simple "I liked this." or a "You should really get a Beta Reader to correct your abysmal grammar." - whatever works for you! Even if you don't intend to read further, I'd love to know** why **not! :)_

_Now, I'll quit begging you for reviews and say:_

**BIOWARE OWNS THE NOUNS, but the adjectives are mine~**

****_-AndAgain_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The room I'm in is barely lit by a single torch. The shadows seem to bend and sway in its light, and I can see a few meters of stairs in front of me, extending into blackness.

****I grab the torch from its bracket on the wall - I have to stand on my tip-toes to do so - and start slowly down the stone steps.**  
**

_Why is everyone here so bloody tall?_**  
**

The whole place reeks of mold and damp, and something else that I can't place. A sort of acrid, metallic scent that makes some little part of my brain want to run and hide. Something like blood, sweat, and the way your mouth tastes in the morning if you didn't brush your teeth the night before.**  
**

It takes me a full five minutes of stumbling downward to reach the bottom of the stairway. There is a sound like dripping water, and when I turn to discover its source I nearly jump out of my skin, confronted by a woman staring up at me from the floor.

A moment later, I hazard another glance, only to be met by my reflection in a small pool of water.

_Okay, just calm... down..._

I take a deep breath and press forward, doing my best not to look at the cells on either side of me, until I reach the archway that leads down into the 's guarded by a couple of Templars.

_Time for a little more lying._

**"**Hello, Serrah." I say in a polite tone, addressing the left-side guard. "I'm s'posed to bring a message to Duncan. I was told he would be through here."

The Templar looks at the guy next to him, who shrugs noncommittally. I can see the wheels turning in the big man's head, trying to decide who to blame if I'm not telling the truth. After a moment of holding my breath - I could get in real trouble for screwing with these people - the Templar mimics his friend and shrugs his shoulders, indicating with a hand for me to pass.

_Alright, it's time for the big stuff._

I walk through the archway, down a corridor, and - here, I'll take a moment to describe the scene as it spread before me.

Duncan stands with Irving, another (female) mage, and a Templar. Their backs are to me, facing a door. Suddenly, the door blows open, and a man I recognize as Jowan runs through, stopping suddenly when he sees the warden.

Lily runs out after him, slamming into his back with his abrupt stop.

Behind them, more slowly, comes the man I assume to be Alim 's short for an elf, of perhaps average human height. Shorter than Jowan. He has long, red-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and particularly pointy ears.**  
**

I kind of want to flick them _really badly._**  
**

His features are strong, if somewhat innocent, and his grey eyes hold a look of quiet despair as he notices the warriors. He sighs, standing beside Jowan and Lily, and shoots an accusatory look at the female mage by Duncan.

**"**I had to do it, Al. You know I did." she responds, in a firm voice. She has a short, black bob cut and I can tell that her arms are folded.

I'm surprised that no one has noticed me yet, but I guess they're too distracted with their own drama.

Alim's eyes narrow, something like hatred flashing in them. It's scary, how cold this obviously nice guy's voice is when he replies.

**"**The least you could do is feel bad about it, _Solona._**" **he snarls, glaring daggers.

She shrugs her shoulders, "I do what's right, Al. I'm sorry you don't agree."**  
**

**"**That is _enough!" _Irving shouts, just as Alim looks to be about to scream something foul at the mage woman. I jump a bit in surprise, kicking a piece of rubble. The noise doesn't distract the mages, but Duncan looks back at me.

It's kind of a '_we'll talk about this later, and you should not be looking forward to that conversation._**' **look.

I wince, then go back to listening to the first enchanter speak.

**"**Amell, I appreciate that you helped us in this, but please return to your quarters."The woman stiffens, then bows slightly, walking out of the room. I duck to the side, inching closer to Duncan. Luckily, however, she's got her nose too high in the air to notice me.**  
**

I decide I don't like her.

**"**Alim, my child..." Irving sighs, turning his attention to the young mage, "I wish your heart had not lead you so far astray."

Alim bows his head, though whether in resignation or defeat, I can't say.

**"**As for you, Jowan," the elderly mage growls, his tone suddenly deepening in anger, "you and this girl have completely disregarded our laws, and our customs. You are lucky that I have managed to convince Greagoir here that you should only be sent to Aeonar in stead of made tranquil." both Alim and Jowan flinch, and then Irving addresses Lily.

**"**You, young lady, shall meet whatever fate the Chantry deems fit. It is not for me to decide, but I hope that it is in some way comparable to what Jowan shall endure for your folly."

Lily nods, though she looks pale. "I understand, sir."

I suddenly feel bad for her.

Jowan seems to agree, because his face contorts in rage and he thrusts the young sister further behind himself.

**"**No!" he screams as Greagoir advances, lifting his staff, "You will not touch her!" **  
****  
**He stabs the jagged end of the stick into the palm of his hand. It bleeds profusely, but the liquid seems to defy gravity; it flows upward, and Jowan's eyes glow a dark, thick red.

**"**Jowan!" Alim shouts over the growing roar of power, "Jowan, no!"

The man pays his friend no heed, and a red haze forms around him. He lashes out with his magic, sending us all sprawling. I'm trapped against the wall, and this magic feels nothing like Anders'.

It's evil and corrupt, burning my skin and filling my mouth with a horrible taste. The song of it is both terrible and beautiful.

_I want them, _it seems to say. _I want them all. I want their blood. I want their pain._

**"**Yes!" Jowan cries, raising his staff higher, a wave of sickly crimson light pouring forth, "I will bring forth every demon in the fade if it will keep her from you!"

Just as it seems he is about to do fulfill the threat, however, I notice movement in the corner of my eye. It's the Templar - Greagoir - and he is pushing against the blood magic.

**"**No, you filthy maleficar!" he shouts, "I will not allow you to lay waste to this circle in a thrice-damned _temper tantrum!_**"****  
**

He slowly draws his sword, then forces his arms upward, holding the weapon aloft.**  
**

**"**I command you - _cease!_**"**

Suddenly, from him blooms a cornucopia of white light, cleansing everything around us. It flows through me like a wave of antiseptic, washing me clean of any little remnants of the healing spell. It's so cold it almost burns, and when it finally recedes, I touch my face.

I feel raw. I'm pretty sure he singed my eyebrows.

Alim is coughing weakly, lying on the floor. Lily still stands where she was, behind Jowan, who is doubled over in agony. Irving is leaning on Duncan, who seems unfazed. Greagoir stands in the center of the room.

Jowan suddenly straightens, turning to face Alim. **"**My friend," he sputters, "please, help me."

The elf winces and wriggles farther away from the man. "We are not friends, _blood mage._**" **he hisses, and Jowan flinches at the name. He then reaches out to his lover, a pleading look on his face.**  
****"**Lily, I'm so sorry. Please, Darling, I had to. To protect us. You understand, right? It was for us, Love."**  
**

Lily's face seems to spasm between despair, anger, heartbreak, betrayal - and settles on fury.

**"**Don't you _ever _call me that again! There is _nothing _between us now! Do you _understand_?"**  
****  
**Jowan staggers back, and I can't help it. I want to give him a hug. He was driven to desperate measures by the impossible situation he found himself in. People have done worse things for reasons that weren't half as good as 'love'.

I inch my way to standing by Duncan. Greagoir marches over and grabs the two offenders by the arms, leading them out of the basement and up into the dungeon. Alim gradually stands, then blinks confusedly when he notices me by the Grey Warden.

**"**W- who are - how -when -what is she...?" he stammers, his brain obviously still a bit scrambled from the smiting he just received.

**"**Yes," a much older voice replies, from Duncan's other side. "I've been wondering that, myself." Irving steps away from the Warden, looking at me with a curious gleam in his eyes.

"Just_ what_, exactly, _are _you, my dear?"


	5. Jedi Mind Trick

**A/N: Somebody said "Please come back", and while I can't say I've done so, I did find this gathering dust in my Google Docs. Andraste only knows when, or if, I'll update again, but for now... here's another installment of Dropped in Thedas :)**

**Much love!**

**-AA**

* * *

_SHIT._

"Um, I am a human being." I stammer, taken aback.

"Yes, yes, you would claim to be one of us." Irving says in a calm voice, eyeing me suspiciously. Duncan had moved so that he is standing beside the old mage.

"I am." I say, trying my best to look confused. It's not that hard. How did he know?

"I am not so sure." Irving replies, one eyebrow raised. "From the moment you stepped off of that boat, I could sense that something was wrong. The Fade ripples around you, girl."

"Yes..." a quiet voice from behind me. I whip around, and nearly crash into Alim. He's standing not six inches away. Short he may be, but he's taller than I am. His hair has come free from its tie at some point in the chaos with Jowan, and now it hangs down in auburn curtains on either side of his face.

He is peering down at me, eyes slightly unfocused. It's like he's looking through me. His mage's robes - they're red and gold and look quite nice on him - flutter slightly as he summons a small whisper of power.

I feel it caress the side of my face. Its touch is icy, and I wince away.

"Yes, Enchanter," the elf continues, "the Fade... it bends around her." he raises a hand, and it is shaking slightly. I back up, bumping into Irving. Alim looks dazed; he's starting to scare me.

I can feel fear fluttering around in my belly. I am so out of my depth here.

Suddenly, Duncan pulls me away. This seems to snap Alim back to this plane.

I feel safer, but the big man's fingers dig painfully into my shoulder. Safe from mages, yes. But from him? Good question.

"Do not touch her, my boy." Irving sighs, patting the young mage on the shoulder.

"Alim is one of our best spirit mages. He is adept in matters of the fade and the creatures that reside there. Since he is so attuned, any disturbance is like an earthquake, once he notices it."

"I see," Duncan says thoughtfully, holding his breath for a second before letting out a whooshing sigh. "Would you be able to tell if she was a demon, boy?"

Alim blinks, then recovers his concentration. He nods brusquely, pulling his sleeves back up to his elbows. This reveals long, thin limbs. His fingers are elegant and delicate.

"Hold her still a moment, and I should be able to figure it out."

Okay, I'm done.

"Hold me still?" I question. This sounds bad. "Look, don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

I start struggling, trying to get out of Duncan's grip, but it only tightens.

"What are you going to do? Stop it, Duncan!" I'm panicking, shouting, trying to scramble back from Alim. The mage is holding out his hands, and something in his eyes has shifted and hardened.

"Hold her." Irving commands, and Duncan complies, gripping my arms and holding them behind my back. I go quiet. There's nothing I can do. Maybe it won't be so bad - like some kind of really bizarre metal detector. That detects demons instead of metal.

Okay, that metaphor is a long shot, but whatever. Point is, maybe it will be harmless.

I relax a bit. No need to overreact.

Alim places his hands on my face. His middle fingers are pressing into my temples with his thumbs in the center of my forehead.

It's hard for me not to jerk away, but I hold still. There is a rushing sound, and then I feel the mage's magic pouring into me.

Where Anders was cool, Alim is hot. His power is like a river of fire. It burns, and I can feel tendrils of it reaching for something inside of me. They go deeper, deeper than my physical being, and then I feel them close around something I hadn't even realized was present.

He's got hold of _me_.

His face is pinched with concentration, his fingers pressing harder into my head. Irving comes around behind him, so I can see the old man. He looks determined.

"You may release her, Duncan."

The warden lets go of my hands. I feel a little twitch in the magic, and suddenly all I want in the world is to sit down.

I slump down onto the floor, head lolling to one side. I am so very, very tired.

"What did the boy do?" I hear Duncan's voice from behind me. "Is she his thrall?"

"No, it isn't blood magic," Irving replies, "He's using his own life force to control hers, yes, but it is a talent peculiar to spirit mages."

"I can't imagine the Templars approve."

"Oh, it isn't very dangerous. It's enormously difficult to do, can only be performed in very close quarters, and doesn't last very long."

"Yes," Alim's voice interjects, "and the clock is ticking. What should I ask her, First Enchanter?"

"Start with personal information."

"Alright," I see the young mage's feet shuffle beneath his robes, "how old are you?"

"Nineteen." I answer promptly, "I'll be twenty in two months, though."

I feel compelled to explain further.

"I'm a May baby, you see. Actually, my Aunt Becky was born in May as well. So, it's February currently. At least, it should be. But it feels like October here. Is it October?"

The men don't answer, but I don't really mind.

I wonder if it is October. Or, maybe they have different names for seasons. Wait, they do, right? What was October called, again? And isn't there some kind of holiday? I wonder if they have Halloween.

"Do you lot celebrate Halloween?" I giggle slightly at the idea of Duncan dressed up as a pirate.

My thoughts feel slippery. They run away on a long tangent about Halloween. I look up at the three, and Alim still looks focused, if a bit confused. Irving is whispering something to Duncan, who nods.

I think Irving should go as Gandalf.

He turns back to Alim, muttering , "Try something else."

"Where are you from?"

"I," I say, rather proudly, "am a born and bred Texan."

"A what? Is that something in the Fade?"

"No, it's a state. In the United States of America? On planet Earth?"

"What?"

"Well," I muse, trying to figure out through my foggy brain how to explain this, "You're from Thedas, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm from Earth."

"Right. And this... Tessis is a place, in this land of "Earth"?"

"Texas, it's Texas. Tex-ass"

Alim sniggers slightly, turning to look at Irving with a vaguely hopeless expression.

"The girl is talking nonsense, Irving," he says, again as though I'm not there. Which I'm not, entirely._ Are those bats in that corner? Oooo bats are super cool I wonder if -_

_"ohmyGod Alim you should go as Batman_."

He gives Irving another look like,_ See my point?_

Duncan, however, looks skeptical.

"Maybe she's found a way to circumvent your spell?" Irving asks, but Alim shakes his head doggedly.

"Not meaning to offend, Enchanter, but even you would be hard pressed to defeat this one. I think she must simply be mad."

"Or," Duncan cuts in, "She's telling the truth. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Those are just stories," the young elf scoffs.

"I'm not so sure," Irving chimes in, "when I was a lad, I knew a young mage who magicked himself into a copy of the supply ledger. It took us months to figure out how to get him back again."

"What did he do when he returned?" I blurt, unable to control my talkative impulses. The three men blink for a moment. Does being female really make me so invisible?

"He spent the rest of his days trying to replicate the spell, only with a copy of something called 'The Antivan Stiltwalker and Other Pleasurable Positions'."

"Did he ever succeed?" I ask, fascinated.

"Not to my knowledge. He went down into the dungeons with the disgusting thing, and was never seen again."

Alim is starting to look a bit twitchy, and he reaches out to touch his fingers to my temples again. There is another surge of power, like somebody poured expensive whiskey on my brain, but it is weaker this time. I feel myself grow even sleepier and less focused.

"I can't hold it much longer, Sers, if there's aught else you'd ask her...?"

"Would more questions about her family perhaps help?" Irving muses, directing the question to Duncan. The warden looks faintly amused.

"Somehow, I doubt that would get us very far. How about just - _are you a demon_?"

"No." finally, an easy question.

"Have you ever, besides dreaming, been to the fade?"

"No." Jeez, this Duncan is a genius. I could just do this answering thing all day. Just yes-or-no questions, I'm so good at these.

"There," he grunts, nodding to Irving. "I think that's what you were looking for?"

Irving nods, and Alim relaxes visibly, removing his hands. It's like losing my only friend - as hot as the fire was, the cold that instantly begins to seep into my body as the elf lets go of the spell is much less comfortable.

Damn it am I ever sleepy.

****"Al, take her back to her room." Irving directs, handing the mage a silver key. "And lock the door this time."


	6. Cat and Mouse

**A/N: So, it turns out I had another one in me, after all...**

* * *

So, now I'm alone with this tall, sexy elf mage and he's walking me back to my room. He's also trying really hard not to look at me.

"So, _Ali_-"

"Don't call me that." he hisses, sparing me a quick suspicious glance.

"Why not?"

"My mother called me Ali," he growls grudgingly; "are you reading my mind, demon?"

"Hey, didn't we just go through a whole thing about how much I'm _not _a demon _at all_? Not an evil bone in my body."

We're jogging up the steps from the dungeon now, Duncan and Irving's receding voices bouncing off the stones behind us. They're talking in hushed, urgent tones.

I wonder what Alim is thinking right now. I look at him, trying to match pace with his long strides. He may not be that much taller than myself, and me short by Earth standards, but he moves with a graceful, fluid step that seems unnaturally quick.

_He's probably buffed with Haste or something._

I had a pretty good look at him earlier, but his eyes still draw me. They're so dark right now, brooding, frightened. _He has no idea if he's going to live through tomorrow. Not after Jowan._

I hope Duncan offers to take him in. I don't know what I can do from my position. For now, just try and keep up. Make conversation.

"What was your mother like? Was she Dalish?"

"I don't know why it's your concern," he says, casting me another icy look out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not," I assure him. "I'm just nosy. Curious. A busybody."

"Clearly," he grits his teeth, then surrenders to a small smile, an expression that temporarily lights up his face. Then, it's cast into shadow again as he presses himself against a wall to avoid a herd of clanking Templars stomping past us down the stairs.

"So?" I ask him again, after finishing our ascent in silence and reaching the dungeon door. Those gullible guards are gone. I hope they aren't in any trouble for letting me through.

"Yes, she was one of the People," he concedes, peering out into the dimly lit hall. "what do you know about the Dalish, anyway?"

"More than many and less than some." I answer vaguely. It probably wouldn't do to let on just how familiar I am with all of this. "You?"

Alim's face twists in a grimace of pain as we start out into the narrow corridor, taking the side that slants upward at an uneven angle. _Who did they get to build this place? It's a dump._

"Less than I'd like," he answers carefully, eyeing me again. "how did you come to be so familiar with the People, Demon?"

"I'm not a demon," I sigh, "and I like to read."

This answer seems to placate the mage for the time being, and we hurry along for what seems like ages with nothing but an occasional flickering torch or skittering mouse to break the monotony of the stone corridor. The big, thick flags that make up the floor make an ugly _smack_as my oversized boots hit them, and the ceiling is low enough in places that even I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

_If it weren't so damned dark, it'd be easier. _

Suddenly, the hall widens and forks into two broad, high-ceilinged walkways that overlook a vast library. _How did I not manage to notice this on the way here?_

Alim turns around like he heard the thought, the shadow of a grin ghosting across his face.

"The Tower can be... deceptive."

"Clearly." I glare at him, at the smirk that's hiding in his eyes, "Or maybe you're the demon."

He laughs then, genuinely laughs, but it's cut short when yet another patrol crashes by. Alim bristles like a startled cat and pulls me into the unoccupied passthrough.

I wonder if all laughter is cut short in this place. If all expression is forced into the ethereal. I wonder what they did to make him so afraid.

Impulsively, I squeeze his hand. It's warm and dry, with slim fingers and a square palm. He doesn't move, but I feel the muscles in his wrist tense. We stand there, silent as the grave, until the danger is past. Far below us, the library teems with tiny figures glinting silver, and even smaller splotches of purple, green, red, yellow - templars and their mage captives.

Captives.

_Please, Duncan, Please. Take Alim. He's clearly powerful. Take him, take him, take him._

"They're out in force tonight," I remark after we've started moving again. There's something nervous about the way the elf is moving - less the lithe and graceful cat, more the quick and wary mouse.

"They're looking for Jowan." the words come out from between clenched teeth. "I pray to the Maker that they find the whoreson."

"Well, yes," I sigh, "but I'd bet at least some of them are out after Anders."

"Again?" Alim groans, running a hand through his loose auburn hair. "That idiot will never learn. And why did he have to pick _tonight?_They'll lock him up in the deepest, darkest hole they can find, on suspicion of conspiring."

_Good thing, too, or he wouldn't survive the demon attack_

"Yeah, from what I can tell, he doesn't seem one to _think_about his actions particularly thoroughly."

"I don't know that he thinks about them at all."

We've reached my door now (I can tell because there're still shards of multicolored crockery scattered dangerously on the floor). Alim awkwardly scuffs one pointed shoe on the stones.

"I know, I know," I roll my eyes, "you can't leave until you've locked the big bad Demon up."

"So you are a Demon, then," he smiles, "you admitted it!"

"I neither confirm nor deny anything." it's all I can do not to stick my tongue out at the twit.

"That's basically 'yes'."

Now I do stick my tongue out, and then slam the door in his face. When I hear the key turn in the lock, and the elf's padded footsteps fade away, I throw the coat and the tunic onto the end of the bed, just keeping the underclothes.

I slide under the scratchy coverlet, and I have just enough time to wonder if the bed is _actually _made of rocks before I fall deeply, deeply asleep.

~Q~

I dream I'm home again.

_It's Christmas, which doesn't make any sense because that's not what time of year it is. I'm home from college, with my family - my little brothers are taller than I remember. How long have I been away? My mother is crying, smiling. Where's the dog, the one we've had since I was a little girl? _

"_Baby girl," she calls me, "Baby girl, we looked everywhere for you."_

_Then suddenly, my youngest brother screams and points at my side. I look down, and instead of my letterman over a T-Shirt, I'm wearing a leather battle dress studded with metal disks. There's something protruding from my side - a long stick with black feathers crudely affixed to the end._

_Pain spreads from the arrow wound, and I can feel hot blood running down my hip._

"_Fenny!" Is that my mother? It doesn't sound like her any more. "Fenny, you've got to wake up, please Fen, please!"_

_No, it's a man's voice, not my mother at all. Where did everybody go? I'm falling, falling, falling and everything hurts. It's like fire in my veins._

"_She's been poisoned." that's definitely a woman, in a tone clipped with fear and sure with experience. "I don't know if there's anything I can do."_

"_Fen, oh Fen, you can't you can't you have to wake up! Wake up! Wake up!_

_Wake up_

_Wake up_

_Wake up_

_Wake - _

" - up, lazybones. I don't know how they do things in Earth, but here in Thedas we rise with the sun if we don't want to be left behind."

I crack open my eyelids, cold and sweating from the nightmare. It's Duncan, and he's a welcome sight.

"Are we leaving?" I croak, mouth dry. _It didn't mean anything. It didn't._

But dreams in Thedas are more than dreams.

"Aye, we meant to be gone an hour ago. The Templars don't like it when we take from their flock."

I sit up, suddenly clear-headed.

"So we're taking Alim?"

"Alim and Solona both."

Argh. The impression the female mage gave last night has me leaning more towards _major pain in the ass _than _fun adventuring companion_.

Maybe she'll turn out _not _to store that staff quite as far up her ass as she seems to, though. Maybe.

(Unlikely, just saying)

But hey, a girl can hope.


End file.
